


Like a handprint on my heart

by anamia



Series: The daemon!jolras AU [2]
Category: His Dark Materials - Philip Pullman, Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Daemons, Daemon Touching, Gen, Panic Attacks, Platonic Cuddling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-28
Updated: 2013-05-28
Packaged: 2017-12-13 07:02:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,297
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/821400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anamia/pseuds/anamia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bossuet helps Joly through a panic attack.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Like a handprint on my heart

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Joly appreciation day on tumblr. This is my first time writing Joly and Bossuet in more than very minor roles so let me know how I did!
> 
> Also, I do not suffer from panic attacks myself, so if my representation is incorrect or problematic please correct me and I'll do my best to fix it.
> 
> Joly's daemon is a smallish Bonobo and Bossuet's is an oyster. If you want more headcanons or tidbits or background or whatever about this AU you can check out my ['daemon!jolras AU' tag.](http://kingedmundsroyalmurder.tumblr.com/tagged/daemon!jolras-au)

Joly trembled.

He sat on the floor of his rooms, knees drawn tightly to his chest, arms clasping them desperately, and trembled. Next to him Jacqueline was in no better state, though she had his arm in one of her hands in an attempt at comfort that fell flat due to her own panic. Their breathing came erratically as they fought to keep from making too much noise. The walls of their rooms were thin and it was late. Their neighbors would not appreciate the disruption, and they always did their best to be courteous as well as cheerful.

It was difficult to be either right now.

The attack had started without warning earlier in the evening, sparked by something neither of them could remember. They’d been at the Musain with the others, laughing gaily at some joke and keeping an eye out for Bossuet when suddenly Joly felt his chest tighten painfully. It took only a moment to recognize the problem, though during that moment Joly’s mind flew through every single condition he could name that began with chest pain, all more deadly than the last. He buried his fingers in Jacqueline’s fur, knuckles going white as he gripped her tightly enough to hurt them both.

Courfeyrac, with whom they had been speaking, frowned and asked something that Joly could not understand. He tried to take a steadying breath, but his lungs did not cooperate very well. Jacqueline’s eyes were wide with panic, whites clearly visible. Courfeyrac reached out to lay a hand on Joly’s shoulder and he flinched away, breathing speeding up even more in instinctive terror. Some part of his brain managed to cut through the growing panic to inform him that this time he was _definitely_ going to die.

Somehow he managed to stumble out of the café and into the night air. The change of scenery did not help any, not with all the people crowding past and the horses making a racket as they pulled carts briskly to and fro. Jacqueline was in his arms now, clinging to him with nearly human hands and dexterous feet that currently gripped him tightly enough to send sharp pains through his entire body. He barely noticed.

They made it to their rooms, flinching back at every sudden movement and nearly running people over as their vision rapidly decreased in effectiveness. The knowledge that they were going blind only made the attack worse, and by the time they made it to their rooms they could barely stand. It took Joly nearly five minutes to unlock his door and he fell to the ground just inside, bracing himself against the hard wall. The door swung closed behind them.

They were alone. Musichetta was ill, ordered to stay in bed by Joly himself, and Bossuet had an errand to run and would not be back until late. The legitimacy of these reasons did not penetrate Joly’s brain properly, and all he could do was latch onto the simple fact that he was alone. He let out a strangled sob while next to him Jacqueline keened in terror.

Time passed, though Joly could not have said how much. He felt himself growing tired but he could not stop crying, could not calm the trembling, could not tamp down on the fear that consumed every part of his mind and body. His throat burned, his feet felt frozen, and he was dying. He was dying here in these rooms all alone without even having said farewell to his best friends.

He didn’t hear the door open, nor did he see the figure step into the room. Only when a warm hand landed gently on his shoulder did he notice the intruder. He shrank back into himself, trying to escape the touch, breathing coming even more quickly than before as new terror swamped him.

“Jolllly.” The gentle voice, so achingly familiar as it mangled Joly’s name, penetrated the panic and before he quite knew it Joly found himself clinging to Bossuet with all his strength, crying all the more strongly now that his friend was here. Bossuet held him firmly, letting Joly feel the solidness of his presence, and murmured, “I am here, it’s all right” over and over again.

Slowly Joly recovered his breath and, even better, his vision. He could see now that Bossuet was disheveled, as though he had pulled on his coat in a great hurry and not taken the time to adjust any of his clothes. The distinctive lump in his breast pocket showed the presence of Gaëlle, his dæmon. Joly took a trembling breath, hiccupping halfway through as he failed to suppress more tears, and tried to pull himself back together. Jacqueline let go of where she was gripping his arm and began to groom herself, hands trembling still as Joly cried.

“What happened?” Bossuet asked gently, wiping away Joly’s tears with a tender finger.

“I don’t know,” Joly managed. “We were at the Musain and then suddenly it came over us and we were dying and we were alone and…” His breath hitched again and Bossuet tightened his grip.

“We’re here now,” he said. “You’re not alone, not anymore. It’s all right. You’re safe. We’re here.”

Joly didn’t feel safe, but he nodded anyway, still holding his friend as though he really would die if he let go. Bossuet gave no indication that the strength of Joly’s grip hurt him, just gave him a reassuring smile, white teeth flashing clearly against dark skin. They sat there for a long time, Bossuet holding Joly and Jacqueline pressed against Joly’s side. Finally Bossuet shifted.

“Don’t leave me!” Joly exclaimed, newly regained evenness of breath vanishing.

“I won’t,” Bossuet promised. “I’m just going to get a candle. You can come with me.” He shifted again and this time Joly let him, albeit reluctantly. He shook his head at Bossuet’s offered hand, not at all sure he could stand. Jacqueline moved closer and he held her as they both tried not to fall back into terror while Bossuet was gone.

Bossuet returned a minute or so later, holding a lit candle to see his way. He had almost reached the place where Joly and Jacqueline sat when he lost his footing and stumbled forward, free arm windmilling desperately to keep from falling while holding the candle. His hand landed on Joly to brace himself, only it wasn’t Joly at all and for a single, heart stopping moment, Bossuet gripped Jacqueline’s arm to keep from losing his balance completely. A wave of sudden calm rushed through Joly, vanishing almost instantly as Bossuet yanked his hand away, looking stricken.

“Joly, I,” he managed, pulling back farther still. “I am so sorry. I truly did not mean… I would never dream of purposefully…”

Joly interrupted him with a shake of his head, turning pleading eyes up to his friend. “Do it again?” His voice came out barely a whisper. He knew the magnitude of what he asked, knew the myriad of things he assumed about Bossuet in making that request, but the only thing he could think of was the sheer bliss of that instant of calm, the way everything had suddenly slowed and made sense and became only Bossuet.

Bossuet stared at him for a moment. Then, “You are certain?”

Joly nodded. “Please?”

Slowly, hesitantly, Bossuet settled himself next to Joly and set the candle a little ways away. Then he took a breath and reached out, placing his hand firmly on Jacqueline’s shoulder.

Both Joly and Jacqueline relaxed in an instant, their lingering panic chased away completely. Joly could feel the pressure of Bossuet’s hand on Jacqueline’s skin, could feel the heat of his body, could tell without looking that Bossuet too was affected by the contact. His mind was filled only with his friend, leaving no room for fear of death or solitude. Never had he felt so utterly _safe_. His eyes drifted closed, body exhausted by the panic attack and sudden relaxation. He fell asleep almost immediately, Jacqueline joining him in slumber moments later, both breathing evenly at long last.

*

Bossuet woke first, as was his wont. For nearly a minute he just sat where he was, watching Joly sleep, a deep happiness filling him to his very core. He had taken his hand from Jacqueline during the night, but the memory stayed with him, a residual sense of pure _rightness_ that would take a very long time indeed to fade. He realized that he was grinning and laughed quietly, reaching into his pocket to run his fingers along Gaëlle’s shell. She could not speak to him without being properly immersed in water, but she did not need to. He felt her happiness, felt it as strongly as he felt his own.

Sunlight peeked in through the closed shutters of Joly’s rooms. Slowly, being careful not disturb his sleeping friend, Bossuet rose and padded across the room to open them, taking care not to trip on anything. The candle had long since been blown out and he left it on the floor for the moment. He began to make coffee for them both, navigating Joly’s kitchen as easily as he did his own. Every few seconds he glanced back towards Joly, whose sleeping face wore a small smile of deep contentment. It was an expression that could have filled Bossuet’s heat with delight even without the feeling of Jacqueline’s fur fresh on his fingertips.

Joly woke just as the coffee was finished brewing. Bossuet beamed at him and crossed the room to hand him a cup. “How did you sleep?” he asked.

“Better than I have in months,” Joly assured him, gently nudging Jacqueline awake.

“I am glad for it,” Bossuet said. He held out a hand to help Joly to his feet. Joly took it with a smile of thanks, coffee cup held carefully in his free hand.

They made their way to Joly’s dining table and sat, both drinking the strong coffee in small sips. Neither felt the need to speak. Outside the birds sang as the city bustled, noises mixing together and fading into a comforting background hubbub.

“Are you hungry?” Bossuet asked.

Joly shook his head. “Eating first thing in the morning is bad for the digestion,” he informed Bossuet, wrapping his hands around his cup more firmly, slender fingers interlocking firmly.

Bossuet laughed. “I bow to your superior judgment,” he said, leaning back in his chair. “Have you anything to do today?”

“I need to check in on Musichetta,” Joly said. “But I have no classes.”

“I’ll go with you,” Bossuet said. “No doubt she could use the company. And then a walk? It would be a shame to spend such a lovely day inside.”

“I am allergic to flowers,” Joly said doubtfully, but Bossuet only laughed.

“I know,” he assured his friend. “We’ll stay well away from them, don’t worry.”

Joly started to answer, but his eyes landed on the empty tank of salt water he kept for Gaëlle and his eyes flew wide open in alarm.

“It’s fine,” Bossuet assured him before he could speak. “We are well Joly, don’t worry.”

“She should be immersed immediately,” Joly insisted. “I could never forgive myself if you became ill because of me.”

“It is you who has the delicate constitution, not us,” Bossuet said with a grin, but he rose anyway. Joly did the same and together they made their way to the tank. Jacqueline stayed where she was, watching intently.

When Bossuet made to remove Gaëlle from his pocket Joly reached out impulsively then yanked his hand back, a slight blush on his cheeks. Bossuet frowned. “What is it?” he asked.

“I… no, it is nothing.”

“Joly,” Bossuet said. “You know you can speak your mind with me.”

Joly hesitated for a moment longer and then, his voice barely above a whisper, asked, “May I?” He gestured to where Gaëlle still sat and for an instant the breath left Bossuet’s body. He remembered how it had felt to touch Jacqueline and imagined the sensation magnified, as it surely must be when it was one’s own dæmon being touched. He nodded mutely.

With hands that trembled slightly Joly reached up and slipped his fingers into Bossuet’s pocket. Bossuet felt the exact moment when those fingers made contact with Gaëlle’s shell. A thousand feelings exploded in Bossuet at once, but the chief among them was an almost impossible love. All the love he had ever felt for his friend sprang together in his breast and he thought his heart would burst. Joly lifted Gaëlle out and into the open air, cradling her in his hands as though she were the most precious thing he had ever seen, his face nearly mirroring Bossuet’s emotions. Bossuet felt it as Joly ran his hands over Gaëlle’s shell, tracing the bumps almost reverently. Slowly he placed her in the tank, the sudden burst of cool water doing nothing to tame the intensity of the emotions. Gaëlle opened slowly, as overcome as Bossuet, and her inner shell gleamed brilliantly through the water and the glass. Joly ran a finger over it and Bossuet shivered convulsively with deep pleasure.

Finally, with some degree of reluctance, Joly removed his hands from Gaëlle and lifted them out of the water. The cessation of contact put a damper on Bossuet’s emotions, tamping them down to a nearly manageable level. Impulsively he pulled Joly into a hug, laughing and crying at the same time. Joly was in the same state and they held each other as the maelstrom receded. Joly had his head rested on Bossuet’s chest and Bossuet looked down at him with vision still slightly blurred from tears, certain that he was the luckiest man in the world after all.


End file.
